


sunflowers confessions and bittersweet rejections

by isabeIIa



Series: Osayachi [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hanahaki AU, OsaYachi Week, florisr atsumu, florist osamu, tattooist hitoka, you couldn’t possible hate me more than i hate myself for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeIIa/pseuds/isabeIIa
Summary: 1517 words of Hitoka receiving flowers and Osamu preparing his next batch
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Series: Osayachi [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960555
Kudos: 14





	sunflowers confessions and bittersweet rejections

Osamu had never been to this hole-in-the-wall tattoo place before, but Atsumu has insisted that they go there this time. They walked in and Osamu was hit with sights this small place had to offer. The first thing he saw was the tattooist.

A beautiful young woman, couldn’t have been older than him. She was leaning over an arm, tattooing a small shape into it, her pastel blonde hair tied behind her. Her tongue was stuck out slightly, it looked as if she was concentrating very hard.

She finished the tattoo and started talking to the client, going over the care and healing procedures, wrapping the fresh tattoo and going through her usual routine. She directed the customer to the counter, where they paid for their tattoo and care supplies.

Atsumu and Osamu walked up to the counter and the now satisfied customer left. The woman looked up from whatever she was doing and Osamu looked into her light brown eyes, he was taken back at how kind and soft they were. 

“Hi! What can I do for you today?”

“My brother and I are looking to get matching tattoos.” Atsumu spoke first.

“Alright! And what is it you two are looking to get?” She got out a note pad, sketchbook and pencil, ready to jot down the requests of the brothers.

“Miya 1 and Miya 2.” Atsumu answered. 

“I’m Miya 1.”

“I want to be Miya 1.” Osamu butted in.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Hitoka rolled her eyes. “Stop your bickering or I’ll stop it for you.”

“Fine, Osamu can be Miya 1.”

“Now where are you getting them?”

“Our asses.”

“No, Atsumu.” Osamu cut in. “We’ll get them on our collarbones, small, easy to see but not to stand out. Is that something you will do?” He asked.

“I’ll do anything within reason.” She responded, not looking up from her notes. “Now, I’ll do the tats, then we’ll go through the care and healing procedures and then you’ll come pay for them. That’s how we work here. Please take a seat in one of the chairs and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Osamu and Atsumu made their ways to the chairs, sitting in one each. They waited for a few moments before Hitoka came up to them. She sat next to Osamu first. “I need you to take off your shirt.” She deadpanned it, and Osamu almost thought she was joking for a moment, but her expression said otherwise.

“Alright.” Osamu pulled his shirt over his head, and placed it in his lap.

Hitoka took a moment to take him in. Her eyes trailed cross his shoulders, down his torso, down to his v-line, where her eyes stopped. Then, she flicked her eyes back up to his; he had a confused, yet arrogant look on his face. He probably though she was checking him out, she wasn’t.

“I’ll get to it then.” She prepared, then she did the tattoo, Osamu didn’t mind the pain. After she was finished with Osamu, she moved onto Atsumu. Her eyes did the same thing to Atsumu as they did to Osamu. It was natural to her, as a tattooist, she saw people’s bodies as her canvas, and what artist doesn’t look over their canvas before beginning?

After she was finished with them, she stood and walked to the counter. “Follow me.” And so they did, to the counter, where they worked out the cost of the tattoos.

Once paid, Osamu and Atsumu left, thanking Hitoka on their way out. Atsumu promised he’d be back for another one soon enough, Osamu didn’t say anything else.

Osamu and Atsumu made their way back to their own shop. The moment Osamu entered the shop, he went to the back room, going to the far wall, where the huge glass window sat. He went over to the sunflowers, for some reason, the woman in the tattoo shop reminded him of sunflowers.

Maybe it was the way she glowed while doing what she loved, maybe it was the way her hair matched colours with the sunflower petals, maybe it was the way her eyes reminded him of the center of the sunflower, a beautiful soft brown. He put a few aside, careful not to put them out of the light of the sun. He would need them later.

The day after, he went back into that store room and potted those sunflowers, getting them ready for their delivery. He would be taking them down to the tattooist, as a gift.

He got them ready for the trip, and headed off down the street, he walked with pep in his step, he felt good this morning, maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was the nervousness, maybe it was the morning sun shining down on him. Either way, he felt great.

Soon enough, he reached the tattoo place, the one he didn’t even know the name of yet. Looking up, he read, ‘Yachi Tattoos’. Perhaps that was her name; Yachi.  
He walked in and the same feeling he got the previous day came back again, only this time, Hitoka wasn’t with a client, she was sitting behind the front counter. She looked up and smiled, “Back again already? You must really want another one.”

“No, actually, I wanted to give you these.” He held up the sunflowers. She hadn’t realised the plants in his hands. Now she just looked downright confused. “I thought you’d like them.” He smiled down at her. “Sunflowers are funny little plants, you know? They face towards the sun, never looking away.”

“And when there’s no sun?” She asked.

“They face each other; they become each other’s suns.”

“I love them. How much?” She stood up and reached over to her purse.

He shook his head. “Nothing, they’re a gift. You remind me of the sun, you remind me of sunflowers, you remind me of the summer. You’re bright and cheery, you’re beautiful and elegant, you’re sweet and kind.”

Hitoka couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was a charmer, she’ll give him that, but she had sworn off boys. All she could do is accept the gift and smile, hoping he didn’t mean this as anymore than a friendly gesture.

The next morning, while he was in the backroom, the worst thing he could possibly imagine happened. He knew in that moment, he could never be with Yachi Hitoka.

He felt his heart break. He felt the sprout of a flower grow from the crack, like a weed that grows anywhere, even in the tiniest crack in the concrete.

Only his heart wasn’t concrete, it was rich, tilled soil, ready to be used, but the flower, however beautiful, was in fact, a weed.

A weed that grew so quickly, so relentlessly, that he couldn’t stop the roots from planting themselves firmly in his chest, his lungs, his stomach. His couldn’t stop the poison from running through his veins, infecting every ounce of his being. He couldn’t stop the flower from dropping it’s seeds, he could stop those plants from growing, from flowering, all through his veins, his heart, his lungs.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breath, and had that horrible feeling of throwing up, only as if he were throwing up paper, and he doubles over, the flowers that had been sprouting up all through his lungs, flowered from his mouth.

All over the wooden floor, the petals fell, all over his open hands, the petals feel, all over his flower shop, the petals fell.

The pain filled his body, spiking in his lungs, his chest, his heart. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak. He needed help, he needed someone to help him, but his voice failed him, his eyes failed him, his lungs failed him. His vision was blurry, spotted with black, then suddenly, nothing.

Osamu’s body fell limp on the floor, flowers grew from his body, as if he were a mound of dirt. Pink Camellias, purple Lilacs and yellow Daffodils grew across his skin. Purple Gloxinias, pale Primroses and red Carnations sprouted from every nook and cranny of his body.

Atsumu walked into the back room, he had been with a customer. For a moment, he didn’t recognise the mound on the floor, then with a look of sudden horrible realisation, he dropped to the floor next to Osamu. Had Osamu been left there any longer, he would be no more.

The rest of the day was a blur for Atsumu, he vaguely remembers calling an ambulance, and the ride to the hospital, but beyond that, all he can remember is sitting outside Osamu hospital room, waiting for the surgery to be finished, waiting to see if his brother was okay.

Hitoka had no idea what she had done. All she knew about the incident is Miya Osamu of Miya Brothers Florists was rushed to hospital after an accident occurred in their back storage room. She knew nothing of the consequences of her actions. She knew nothing of Osamu’s condition, and what happened to him in that back room.


End file.
